


All the Small Things

by islndgurl777



Series: give michael guerin a friend 2k19 (make that friend maria deluca) [2]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Gen, give michael guerin a friend 2k19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:20:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islndgurl777/pseuds/islndgurl777
Summary: They’re in a holding pattern until they aren’t.It ends in pretty much the most unexpected way she can think of, and with all the revelations that have been dropped on her lately, that’s saying something. She’s at home on a Tuesday night, finishing up some bookkeeping for the Pony, when her phone buzzes with a text message.





	All the Small Things

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know anymore, my dudes. Apparently I'm writing again, and it's for a show that's taken over my goddamn life.
> 
> This is mostly due to the amazing reception the last fic got, so if you commented on the previous fic, this one's on you. Follows the conversations in You Oughta Know. If you haven't read it, basically Maria knows Michael needs a friend and offered to be one, but he was too chicken to take her up on her offer at the time.
> 
> Also unbeta'd, because I have no self-control and can't wait to post this.
> 
> Title from Blink 182.

They’re in a holding pattern.

 

Guerin-- _Michael_ \--comes in with his brother, or his brother and Liz, or even just Liz, weirdly enough, but never alone. He drinks and he chats amicably, and he always, always pays his bill. Sometimes he even pays for the others’ drinks. He’s never alone long enough for her to corner him, but he’s always pleasant to her (though never flirtatious anymore) whenever she’s able to sneak away and chat with his table.

 

One time he comes in while Alex is at the bar with her, and they all exchange weirdly formal nods as he heads to Max and Liz’s table. She darts glances between the two of them all night, but they are careful never to let the other see them looking at each other, and she has to hide an exasperated laugh at that. Michael leaves earlier than usual, leaving enough cash to cover his drink plus a generous tip with his brother.

 

Maria’s pretty sure he’s avoiding her outside of the Pony as well. At the Crashdown earlier in the week she joined him and Liz for an impromptu lunch, and she’s pretty sure he faked an emergency with Isobel to get out of talking to her when Liz had to leave the table to take a call from the hospital. Not to mention the flash of curly golden-brown hair she swears she saw ducking behind a shelf at the local market when she went for groceries the next day.

 

The man clearly does not want to talk feelings with her, which she can respect. She’s just a little irritated he’s avoiding talking to her altogether.

 

///

 

They’re in a holding pattern until they aren’t.

 

It ends in pretty much the most unexpected way she can think of, and with all the revelations that have been dropped on her lately, that’s saying something. She’s at home on a Tuesday night, finishing up some bookkeeping for the Pony, when her phone buzzes with a text message.

 

[From: Unknown] (11:54 pm): Have you tried any of these with your mom yet? [Link: Google Docs]

 

Normally she wouldn’t click on a link from an unknown number at midnight; that’s just asking for unwanted dick pics. However, the mention of her mother intrigues her, so she clicks on it.

 

It’s a list of superfoods and homeopathic remedies to help people suffering from memory loss, compiled in a Google Doc. There are links throughout the list to various scientific studies which show the impact each food or remedy has had on slowing or halting different types of memory loss.

 

She reads through the list, occasionally jotting down something new to try on the notepad she keeps on her counter at home. She finds herself clutching her necklace with her free hand as she does it, and that’s how she realizes who the unknown texter is.

 

[To: Unknown] (12:16 am): Michael?

 

[From: Unknown] (12:17 am): Yeah. Sorry, probably should have started with that. It’s not dick pics.

 

She laughs, ridiculously happy to finally hear from him.

 

[To: Michael] (12:19 am): I noticed. Did you find all these yourself?

 

She watches the text bubbles start and stop for a minute before she receives his answer, and the hesitation and subsequent quadruple text tells her more than his actual answer.

 

[From: Michael] (12:21 am): Yes.

 

[From: Michael] (12:21 am): It’s not that big a deal.

 

[From: Michael] (12:21 am): I just had some downtime, thought I’d look into it.

 

[From: Michael] (12:22 am): It’s nothing.

 

[To: Michael] (12:22 am): Thanks, Guerin. There are a few of these I haven’t tried yet. I’ll let you know how they go.

 

There’s a few more seconds of bubbles-no bubbles-bubbles again and then she receives his reply.

 

[From: Michael] (12:23 am): You’re welcome, DeLuca. Keep me posted.

 

She opens the Doc on her desktop, and just to satisfy her own curiosity, she looks at the history of the document. The most recent changes are the addition of two links on the bottom from that evening, but she scrolls backward through the changes and sees a pattern of one or two additions every few days, and when she sees the date of the first edit, her breath hitches.

 

He’d started the doc the day after he’d found her crying in the Pony.

 

“You’re more like the Mariana Trench, aren’t you Guerin?” she murmurs, smiling through a few tears as she cleans up for the night.

 

///

 

She picks up a few of the ingredients at the farmer’s market the next weekend and asks for Mr. Ortecho’s help in creating a palatable dish. They’re working in the kitchen at the Crashdown, so she’s behind the counter when Liz and Michael come in together.

 

“So, what’s the verdict? Is there actually a way to make that off-green vegetable taste good?” Liz asks as she sits at the counter.

 

Maria plates some of her concoction and pulls out three forks. Michael looks startled when she hands him one. “Only one way to find out,” she says, shrugging. They all dig in and exchange wary looks before taking a bite.

 

Michael’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and Liz groans in pleasure. “Unbelievable. How’d you hear about this treatment again?”

 

Maria’s eyes flicker over to Michael as she swallows and he freezes, waves of embarrassment flooding toward her. “A friend,” she says with a shrug. Exultation seeps through the embarrassment. “It was a good idea, and I figure I’ll try anything at this point, you know?”

 

“You want me to look into that study for you?” Liz asks, taking another bite.

 

Maria shakes her head. “Not yet.” She glances over at Michael again, who is chewing another bite slowly. “I’ve got a few other things up my sleeve.”

 

///

 

[To: Michael] (9:49 pm): [video attachment]

 

[To: Michael] (9:49 pm): You’re missing a hell of a show.

 

[From: Michael] (9:54 pm): How much has he had to drink?

 

[From: Michael] (9:54 pm): On my way, just finishing up something.

 

///

 

“What were you working on at 9 on a Friday night?” she wonders as he slides onto a stool across from her.

 

He hesitates long enough that she waves the question off as she finishes pouring his drink. He nods and she feels his relief. “So,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Max and Liz, canoodling on the same side of a booth in the corner. “How much did she pour into him before he got up on stage with her?”

 

She smiles. “Surprisingly, not that much. He’s more drunk on love, I think.”

 

He rolls his eyes but he’s grinning when he turns back to her. “That was uncharacteristically sappy of you, DeLuca.”

 

“What can I say? I’m a fan of a good romance. Especially one that’s more than ten years coming.” She’s talking about Liz and Max, but she doesn’t miss the potential double-meaning in her words.

 

He freezes momentarily and shoots her a look. She’s relieved to feel more exasperated fondness than genuine annoyance from him. “Yeah, well. Some things are inevitable, I think.”

 

She grins softly at him. “Careful, Guerin, you’re starting to sound a little sappy yourself.”

 

He scrunches his nose at her and shakes his head but doesn’t refute it.

 

///

 

[From: Michael] (3:34 pm): Are you busy this Saturday?

 

[To: Michael] (3:36 pm): I can make time for you, if that’s what you’re asking.

 

She stares at the cycle of bubbles-no bubbles-bubbles for a long time before he responds.

 

[From: Michael] (3:40 pm): You up for a road trip to Albuquerque?

 

///

 

He hasn’t looked at her since they left the venue half an hour ago, other than to softly decline her offer to buy him dinner on the way back.

 

His nerves permeate the cab of his truck and his left knee won’t stop bouncing. The tension is pulling tighter between them and she has to ask, “Why me?”

 

He sighs and shifts his hands on the wheel, glancing in the rearview mirror to avoid looking at her as he answers. “Max and Iz are the reason I didn’t go right after high school, so there’d be a lot of guilt if they came. Liz probably would have come, but she’d tell Max. And Alex…” He shrugs. “We’re just not there yet.”

 

She stares at him across the cab, floored. “There’s no one else?”

 

“Nope,” he says shortly, glancing out his window to change lanes. She feels his sorrow and embarrassment.

 

The silence stretches. She reaches over and lifts the cap from the discarded pile of robes on the seat between them. Carefully, she unwraps the tassel from the cap and leans forward to drape it around his rearview mirror. The charm that reads “2019” glints in the moonlight.

 

“I’m proud of you, Michael,” she says, looking straight out the front window.

 

She sees him fighting a slow grin out of the corner of her eyes, but he can’t stop his giddy joy from spreading through her the rest of the drive home.

 

///

 

[To: Michael] (4:46 pm): Cross the next recipe off the list. Not only does it smell AND taste disgusting, but there’s been no change.

 

[From: Michael] (4:51 pm): I think that’s it for the food options. I’ll pick up some things, start working on that mixture of essential oils tonight.

 

[To: Michael] (4:53 pm): Thanks, Guerin.

 

///

 

[From: Michael] (2:39 am): You’ve lived in Roswell your whole life, right?

 

[To: Michael] (2:41 am): Did you seriously wake me up at 3 in the morning to ask that?

 

[From: Michael] (2:43 am): What do you think about the whole alien thing?

 

She groans and rubs her eyes, still struggling to figure out why he’s texting her about this in the middle of the night.

 

[To: Michael] (2:45 am): Should I be offended you’re cheating on the Pony with another bar, Guerin?

 

[From: Michael] (2:46 am): I’m not drunk.

 

She raises her eyebrow at her phone and, as if he’d sensed her incredulity, he amends his statement.

 

[From: Michael] (2:47 am): Okay, I’m a little drunk, but I’m not at another bar, I’m at Max’s.

 

[From: Michael] (2:47 am): The question still stands.

 

She sighs and sits up in bed; she’s clearly not getting any sleep until he’s satisfied she’s answered his questions. And even though he’s not in the room with her, she still senses this conversation represents a turning point in their friendship.

 

[To: Michael] (2:49 am): I think it would be pretty stupid if a psychic completely dismissed the idea of anything otherworldly, don’t you?

 

[From: Michael] (2:51 am): That’s what I thought you’d say.

 

[From Michael] (2:51 am): Do you want to meet Max and me at my place for lunch? I think I’ve got another idea to help your mom.


End file.
